


A Bit of Christmas Cheer

by suitesamba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Christmas, Growing Old Together, Humor, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Secret Snarry Swap 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21694030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitesamba/pseuds/suitesamba
Summary: Retired Harry and Severus try to keep their age-induced missteps under wraps so the children leave them be. But a special Christmas potion gone awry threatens to upset the apple cart.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 28
Kudos: 290
Collections: Secret Snarry Swap19, Snarry Christmas Pre-2020





	A Bit of Christmas Cheer

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta, my proofreader and the mods. You know who you are. You’re all the best of the best.  
> To the prompter – humor, a bit of snark, domestic life of two old men and probably more sex than you’d have expected – definitely more than I’d planned, though I do think Harry and Severus appreciated it, despite their age. Happy holidays to you!
> 
> Prompt No. 31 from likelightinglass: Domestic life of middle aged to old age Severus and Harry. I prefer fluff and humor but honestly anything that explores a long-term established relationship with the two of them, with Harry at least in his late 30s, but preferably older. I'm totally fine with epilogue compliant fics with Harry's canon children with Ginny.

ooO 1 Ooo

Sixty-one was not considered at all old in Wizarding years, but after a lifetime of chasing down dark wizards and dodging curses – or worse, not quite dodging them, Harry Potter, retired Auror and former head of the MLE, was beginning to feel his age.

“Have you seen my glasses?” he called out one brisk December morning as he made his way slowly down the stairs, still wearing his dressing gown. He picked his way carefully around the items piled on the lower stairs waiting to be carried up and put away.

Harry’s partner of twenty-five years, who was sitting on the sofa reading the paper, feet propped on the ottoman and his back to Harry, didn’t answer.

“Severus!”

The other man startled, whirling his head around and glaring at Harry over the top of his five and dime reading glasses. 

“Have you seen my glasses?” Harry repeated, enunciating each word clearly.

Severus scowled. This was an old game, and a tired one. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his hearing. Harry’s mind, on the other hand… 

“What? Lost your wand too?” he drawled. He twirled his own in the air distractedly. “Accio Harry’s spectacles,” he muttered.

The spectacles in question sailed up and out of Severus’ dressing gown pocket and landed in his left hand. If he looked a tiny bit startled, he recovered quickly.

“Here,” he said dismissively, holding them out and returning to the morning _Prophet_.

“They were in your pocket,” Harry pointed out as he plucked the glasses from Severus’ hand and put them on, blinking as the room came into focus.

“Apparently,” Severus conceded. “You should take more care not to leave them on my bedside table.”

“I left them on _my_ bedside table,” Harry grumbled fondly as he headed for the kitchen. “You’d think after all these years you’d stay in one place in bed and not wake up on my side of the bed when you started out on your own side.”

“You were on my side when I came back from the loo,” Severus called out in the general direction of the kitchen a few moments later. The paper rustled as he turned the page and continued reading an excerpt from Rita Skeeter’s new Wizarding romance novel, “Wands Over Wimbourne.”

Harry was definitely in the kitchen now, as evidenced by the sound of a cupboard opening then closing, followed by the crash of what might have been the entire cutlery drawer clattering into the sink. Severus looked over his shoulder then put down his paper and with a long-suffering sigh, began the usually laborious process of getting to his feet. 

“Where’s the strawberry jam?” called Harry.

“In the breadbox,” Severus called back, frowning even as he spoke. He had every confidence that the jam was indeed in the breadbox, but no recollection of how it had, in fact, got itself there.

“Found it – thanks,” Harry called out.

Thinking that a cup of tea would be just the thing to brighten up this too-cold morning, and wondering what exactly had fallen into the sink, Severus padded into the kitchen to find Harry using the back of a spoon to spread jam onto a piece of toast.

“None for me,” Severus said, though Harry hadn’t offered any. He touched the tea kettle with his wand, and the kettle answered with a sputter and a trickle of wet steam.

“Empty,” Harry said, holding up his own steaming mug with a challenging smile. 

“We need a self-filling kettle,” Severus grumbled.

“I asked for one last Christmas and you said it was a frivolous luxury, a tool for slackers and a waste of money.”

“Last Christmas, I didn’t need one,” Severus huffed. “Last Christmas, you weren’t using up all the water in the kettle before I had a chance to make my tea.”

“Last Christmas, I was still going to the Ministry every morning where they have self-filling kettles in every office,” snapped Harry.

“Last Christmas you hadn’t been hit with a debilitating curse a younger Auror would easily have dodged,” Severus shot back.

They glared at each other with the full knowledge that neither was irritated with the other. It was another old game, and a satisfying one.

“Fine.” Severus carried the kettle to the sink and filled it, then returned it to its proper place on the counter. “So, what activities do you have planned for today in which I have no intention of participating?” he asked as he filled the steeper and glanced at the gurgling kettle.

“Christmas decorations,” Harry stated with more exuberance than he possibly could have felt. “We’ve only got a week and the little ones will be looking forward to your fairy lights.”

“The little ones will be looking forward to the overly extravagant gifts their grandfather buys them,” countered Severus. “They’ll hardly notice the decorations.”

“They do notice,” Harry insisted, not bothering to point out that Severus took just as much delight in their reaction to these extravagant gifts as he did. “But it took us a full day and a half to get the lights up last year and that was when you still had two good shoulders.”

Severus scowled. He didn’t like to be reminded of that particular injury, especially since it had occurred when he’d climbed up on a wheeled office chair to see if Harry had hidden his Christmas present on the high shelf in the cupboard. He hadn’t bothered with a Summoning spell knowing full well that Harry had wised up years ago and had been warding the gifts ever since.

“I’ll direct the decorating from the sofa,” Severus declared. “I wouldn’t want to injure my other shoulder.” He rolled it, grimacing for effect. The tea made, he added a molecule or two of milk, just enough to colour it so that Harry wouldn’t mistake it for his own, and wandered back into the sitting room. 

“I’ll go fetch the lights, then,” Harry said, dropping a kiss on Severus’ head as he moved through the sitting room toward the stairs. 

“I’d offer to help but you’d tell me to stay put and drink my tea,” groused Severus, though he didn’t look at all predisposed to trudge up the stairs after Harry.

“I wouldn’t let you anywhere near the attic, Severus,” Harry returned, pausing on the second stair.

“You may think you’ve got me fooled into thinking you don’t want me poking around in the attic because you’re afraid I’ll get hurt digging out the decorations, but I know exactly what you’re hiding up there.”

“Fine. What am I hiding? Body parts?” Harry had a very hard time acknowledging that he held on to things far too long – like his Hogwarts school robes, for example, or his first pair of dragonhide boots with heels worn down so low that Harry practically tipped backwards when he wore them. He had turned back toward Severus but failed to negotiate a pair of roller skates on a stair about midway up. With a loud expletive, he tumbled down six stairs, ending in a heap on the landing.

Severus managed to get to his feet faster than he had in at least three years. He rushed over to Harry, who was groaning and holding his arm against his body. A quick assessment spell revealed a head contusion and a broken arm.

“Promise me something,” Harry managed as Severus cast a bone-stabilizing spell and helped him stand. 

“Of course,” Severus assured him as he led Harry to a spot on the floor clear enough to step into a Side-Along. “What do you want this time?”

Harry grabbed onto Severus’ arm as Severus, other arm around his waist, prepared to Apparate them to St. Mungo’s. 

“Please don’t tell the kids about the skates.”

ooO 2 Ooo

“Luna! What a surprise!” Harry exclaimed as Severus closed the front door behind their unexpected visitor then stood glaring at him over Luna’s head.

“I came as soon as I heard,” Luna said, distractedly. She, in turn, was staring at the ceiling in the corner of the room nearest the kitchen, head cocked slightly to the side.

Severus rolled his eyes as Harry’s followed Luna’s. There were a good many cobwebs up there – he’d been meaning to knock them all down with some quick wand work one day a few weeks ago, but had been distracted by the promise of tea in the conveniently close kitchen.

“It’s lovely that you’ve taken such care to give the Willawings a nesting site,” she said with a smile. Her eyes slid slowly back down and focused on Harry, then widened dramatically as if she’d just noticed him. “Oh, hello there, Harry.”

“Hello,” he said, meeting her halfway in a hug. “Heard what?” he asked as he gave Severus a confused look over her shoulder, trying to convey that he had absolutely no idea what this was about.

Severus had raised his wand and was pointing it at the cobwebs. Harry shook his head vehemently and mouthed _Later!_

“Heard about the attic,” Luna answered, looking pointedly at the stairs. “Hermione said that if you didn’t clean it out soon, she was going to come over when you and Severus visit Teddy and Victoire in Dublin next month and take it all to Oxfam.”

“My attic?” Harry glanced quickly at Severus, who looked inordinately pleased for some reason. “Oh, Luna – you must have heard wrong. Hermione – Hermione likes to …. No – wait – Luna!”

Luna, who was already halfway up the stairs, smiled benevolently. “Come on, Harry. I’ll need help with the Cooterbugs.” She walked up another step then turned again. “Oh – and I _do_ hope there’s a Boggart!”

Severus, arms folded, stared down his nose at Harry.

“She’ll require your help,” he said, one eyebrow raised. “Cooterbug infestations….”

“Oooooh! Doxies!” Luna’s dreamy voice floated down the stairs as if carried by a magical breeze. “And look at all these glorious memories! Is this your school trunk, Harry? And Ginny’s wedding gown? – pity the Cooterbugs have got hold of it. And oh my! A racing broom!”

Severus’ eyebrow had raised impossibly higher.

“Racing broom?” he drawled, posture stiffening even more. “Do tell, Harry.”

“Um – I don’t know.” Harry shrugged. “It must be Lily’s.”

“Lily has never lived here,” Severus replied as he leaned back against the wall, affecting a nonchalant sort of pose. His voice deepened and Harry squirmed like a schoolboy. “Nor has Ginny, though I am certain there is a logical explanation for why she didn’t take her wedding gown when you divorced, and an equally compelling one that you moved her dress here when you sold the cottage.”

“I thought Lily might want it,” Harry claimed. He wasn’t ready to admit that it had hurt him deeply that she hadn’t valued the dress enough to take it with her, and had thought she’d come around eventually and come back for it.

Severus rolled his eyes. Lily Potter was even more of a tomboy than Ginny had been. She’d been married in her Quidditch robes on the pitch after a spectacular win over the Tornadoes. “Give it to her then. Might help us solve that Cooterbug problem.”

“And it’s engraved with your name!” came the disembodied voice from above, obviously commenting on the broom. “To Harry from Ludo on your 25th Anniversary with the Aurors.”

“Alright then – coming right up!” called Harry, racing by Severus as fast as his aching hips, still sore from the fall down the stairs, allowed. He’d sworn off racing brooms after the last concussion three years ago and had made a great show of getting rid of all but his ancient Cleansweep.

Severus sighed fondly and walked to the landing, squinting up to where Harry had disappeared up the second short set of stairs into the attic.

“I’ll fetch boxes for the Oxfam donations,” he called. “Will fifty be sufficient?”

ooO 3 Ooo

“Well, that’s the last of the boxes,” Severus declared smugly, closing the door behind the second incarnation of Fred Weasley who’d been conscripted to drop the boxes off at the village Oxfam shop.

“Not quite,” grunted Hugo Weasley, who’d been helping his cousin with the boxes and who stood behind Severus in the sitting room with one box in his arms and two more floating behind him.

“Put those down!” called Harry as he hurried into the room from the kitchen. He was slightly out of breath. “Those are the Christmas decorations.”

“Should we bring the other boxes of Christmas stuff back in, then, Uncle Harry?” asked Hugo.

“Just leave those here,” Severus hurriedly instructed, pointing to a bare spot in the middle of the room. 

Hugo lowered the boxes and Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him outside, glaring at Severus as if it were his fault that their Christmas décor had ended up in the Oxfam pile.

Severus sank down onto the sofa. Though he’d done little more than issue instructions and glare at the young men as they trotted up and down the stairs, as if they were deliberately flaunting their youthful vitality, he was exhausted. He eyed the boxes before him with a sigh, then pointed his wand at one of them. It slid obediently toward him and he lifted a corner of the lid.

Damn if it wasn’t full of fairy lights.

They were Muggle holiday lights, and even though this particular home, bought from a Muggle chemist some ten years ago, had electricity, these lights were never actually plugged in. Instead, they glowed at varying intensities when they were exposed to magic, so that when the entire family was here, they sparkled and shone with ever-changing colours, lighting up already joyful faces.

Severus sighed. 

There was nothing for it. They’d have to put up the lights. The children did like them, and more important, _he_ liked them, despite what he might claim in Harry’s presence.

Ten minutes later, Harry opened the door and led three bobbing boxes back into the house. He froze a few steps into the room, mouth open.

“Severus!” he exclaimed. “How the hell….?”

Severus, still sitting on the sofa, casually blew on the end of his wand.

“But you’ve never let me use magic!” The boxes crashed heavily to the floor as Harry turned slowly in place, gazing at the softly glowing lights hanging in perfect, graceful arcs from ceiling to floor on every wall in the room, glowing ever brighter as his emotions peaked. “You said it was _tradition!_!”

“I like looking at your arse on the step ladder,” Severus admitted. He patted the cushion beside him. “Now come put that arse down here and take a few minutes to admire my work.”

“I really should kill you,” Harry said as he settled down wearily next to Severus. He lifted his feet up on the ottoman beside Severus’ and snuggled against the bony shoulder with a yawn. “But I’m too tired to lift my wand.”

They sat peacefully side-by-side, Severus’ arm around Harry as he idly hummed _The Holly and the Ivy_ and the fairy lights glowed and faded along with the tune.

“Tea would be nice,” he said after some time.

“Tea _would_ be nice,” agreed Harry.

Neither one moved, however, and after a bit Severus spoke again.

“A randy buggering would be nice too,” he murmured, his arm tightening around Harry.

Harry sighed. “You don’t need to rub it in, Severus. You know I would if I could.”

Severus hummed. His hand snaked lower until it rested on Harry’s still firm arse. “I’ve been working on something,” he said. “It’s not quite ready yet – I was planning to surprise you with it for Christmas.”

Harry snorted. “You’re giving me a virility potion for Christmas?” He let his own hand drift down until it rested on Severus’ thigh. He traced a figure eight on it, as if stirring a potion, then squeezed softly. Severus grunted and spread his legs a few inches. Harry sighed. “In what world is it fair that you can still get it up whenever a breeze blows by your bits and I’m lucky if mine twitches when you climb in the shower with me?”

“Quite a shame that you didn’t settle down with a Potions Master then,” said Severus, grunting a bit as Harry’s hand grazed over his hardening prick.

Harry, a good sport despite the unfairness of the universe, began to unfasten the button of Severus’ trousers. Severus’ arm tightened around him again and he spread his legs an inch or two more.

“Slut,” said Harry fondly, grasping Severus’ prick. “Eighty-one years old and you still can’t get enough of it.”

“Enough of you,” corrected Severus, lifting his bum off the sofa so Harry could get a better grip. 

“Enough of me, then,” Harry murmured with the fondest of smiles.

ooO 4 Ooo

“Bloody fucking Merlin!” shouted Harry very early on Christmas morning.

Some time earlier, he’d been startled awake by a silver tray nudging him in the shoulder. It sported tea just exactly as he liked it, a plate of toast with the rhubarb jam they favoured from the local market, and a mysterious silver goblet filled with a pale red liquid that emitted a pleasant, fruity smell.

Severus settled into bed beside him and nabbed a piece of toast.

“Go on then,” he said, adding, almost as an afterthought, “Happy Christmas, Harry.”

“Happy Christmas, Severus,” Harry returned through a mouthful of toast. 

“The potion last,” Severus instructed. 

Harry grinned and sipped his tea while Severus nibbled on his toast, his eyes on the sparkling potion. When Harry reached for a second piece of toast, Severus’ hand darted out to grab his wrist.

“Potion,” he purred.

Harry obediently lifted the goblet and Severus quickly banished the tray.

“Hey! I was still working on that!”

“You’ll be working on something else shortly,” Severus said. “Drink your bit of Christmas cheer, Harry.”

Harry obeyed, watching Severus over the top of the goblet as he drank the surprisingly fruity potion.

The effect was nearly instantaneous.

He doubted the liquid had even reached his stomach when his normally quiescent prick gave an interested twitch, then a slow throb, and finally a rush of blood flowed downward so quickly that he grew lightheaded.

“All of it,” Severus murmured, long fingers already working on Harry’s thigh beneath the quilt. “Every … last … drop.” He punctuated each word with a firm squeeze, working his fingers higher up Harry’s thigh with each.

“Are you sure?” asked Harry with a frown. He was staring between his legs where the quilt was already tented. “It – uh – it seems to have worked alrea – .”

“Am I sure? Are you the Potions Master or am I?” Severus reached over and tipped the bottom of the cup higher, forcing Harry to gulp down the last few swallows.

A moment later, the cup clattered across the floor of their bedroom as Severus pushed Harry down onto his back, kicked the quilt off the bed, and banished Harry’s pajama bottoms.

“Doubled up on your arthritis potion this morning, I see,” panted Harry as his buttocks contracted and he thrust uncontrollably into the unresisting air.

“Tripled,” corrected Severus. He’d shrugged out of his dressing gown, leaving him completely naked. He was as thin and wiry as he’d ever been, his arse as skinny, his knees as knobby, though the smattering of black hair on his chest had thinned and turned grey. With an evil grin, he grasped Harry’s aching prick as he maneuvered himself over Harry’s legs, straddling them with the power of a much younger, much more limber man.

“You’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow, you idiot,” Harry breathed as Severus lined himself up. 

“Walking is overrated,” growled Severus.

“Severus – not with no…..oh fuck, fuck. Sweet Mother of Merlin – you dirty – dirty old man!”

He groaned as Severus sank down to the hilt, impaling himself on Harry’s prick with the most satisfied grunt as Harry pushed eagerly into him, lifting his entire arse off the bed with every thrust.

“You’ve had a plug in, you perverted octogenarian,” Harry panted, sliding in and out of the well-lubed, once-familiar tightness. “You’ve been _planning_ this!”

“Of course I’ve been planning this,” grunted Severus, eyes closed and a look of blissful ecstasy on this severe face. “My Christmas present.”

“ _Your_ present? Harry’s knees were raised now, partially supporting Severus as he arched backward. “Then what … the fuck … did you get _me_?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, for Severus had grabbed his own prick and was fisting it in time with Harry’s thrusts, then, in far less time and with far more accuracy than a man his age should have been able to, he painted Harry’s chest with ribbons of ejaculate.

“Oh come all ye Faithful,” he sang with a festive sort of old man’s forgotten glee. “Deck your balls with stripes of jism.”

Harry, for his part, was squeezing Severus’ buttocks aggressively. “You’re a miracle worker, Severus,” he panted. “You’re … so … fucking … tight! Merlin I’ve missed this!”

His entire world had narrowed down to his prick and Severus’ arse as he gave a final thrust and tipped over the brink with a rather jubilant shout, as if he’d just found something he thought he’d lost long ago.

He must have passed out, because the next thing he knew, Severus was wiping him off with a wet flannel, muttering about having paired off with a fainter, and he was, miraculously, still very hard.

“Hmmm,” said Severus, eying Harry’s very-erect cock. “That’s unexpected.”

Harry’s prick was prodded. It flopped up and hit his stomach, then sprang back to attention, pointing straight at the ceiling. Harry clenched his buttocks and gave an experimental thrust. He frowned. 

“I’m still hard,” he said, quite unnecessarily as the evidence was right there and rather difficult to ignore.

“I’m sure it will go away,” Severus assured him. He’d stood, and was backing slowly away from the bed. He picked up his dressing gown, still facing Harry, and slipped it back on. “More toast?” he offered.

“Severus….” Harry’s voice held a warning “Severus – we’re not finished here yet.”

He thrust upward again, then once more, and finally, with a desperate cry, grabbed his prick and began to jerk himself off. He looked more than a little desperate.

“You could at least help out a bit,” he snapped as Severus held his ground safely out of reach.

“Perhaps I can brew an antidote,” Severus suggested ten minutes later as Harry sat on the edge of the bed after another intense orgasm, his prick still long and hard between his legs.

“It’s Christmas, Severus. The kids will be here in a couple hours. We have loads to get ready still – you don’t have time to brew a bloody antidote!”

“It should have worn off after one go,” Severus explained, for at least the fourth time. “One round was the intent. Two would be a bonus. Three is – unprecedented.”

Harry stood with difficulty and pulled on a pair of boxers, groaning as he tried to tuck his erection inside. 

“Floo Hermione now,” he insisted with a painful whine. “Get her over here before I’m forced to bugger you on the kitchen table.”

“I suppose I could bugger you instead,” Severus suggested, glancing down at his own prick. Poke it as he might, think of the first time he’d bent Harry over the sofa in his Auror robes, recall the first night they’d copulated in a coat cupboard at a Ministry function, nothing seemed to interest it. “Of course, I’ll need an hour or so to recover.”

“Maybe you could have some of your _potion_!” wailed Harry as he fell back onto the bed and began to pull at his cock again.

“Unfortunately, you drank it all,” Severus pointed out rather superciliously, knowing even as he spoke that he really should have kept his mouth shut.

Harry might not have been able to get it up without a potion, but he hadn’t lost his lightning-quick Seeker reflexes. He reached out, grabbed Severus’s wrist, and jerked Severus over toward him more roughly than one should jerk a man who’d already seen his eightieth birthday, even one who could still – given enough time – get out of a low chair without assistance. “Get Hermione!” Harry hissed. “Between the two of you, you should be able to come up with an antidote before the kids get here.”

“Now you want an antidote,” Severus grumbled, backing toward the door.

Later, Severus would have to remind Harry that fetching Hermione was his idea. He hadn’t wanted to interrupt the Weasleys’ Christmas morning as it was, and had to explain, in front of Rose and her husband, that Harry’s virility potion had gone haywire and he was insisting that Hermione come help.

Ron had had a coughing fit so severe he’d turned purple but Hermione had only sighed and gone off to fetch her coat. 

“You two,” Rose had commented with a fond shake of her head. “You’re really too old for sex potions, Uncle Severus.”

“Which is why I don’t use them,” Serverus said with a sniff, pulling his head out of the Floo in dismissal and shaking the ashes off of his shoulders. Standing up, then shaking his head, left him dizzy and light-headed, and he sank into an armchair to wait.

When Hermione stepped through into their sitting room, Severus pointed up the stairs.

“Knock first,” he instructed dryly. 

He thought he’d have at least five minutes to recover his breath and his balance, but a scream and a loud crack had him up on his feet half a minute later. He staggered over to the stairway, wondering if his blood pressure was out of control again, and grasped the railing for support as Hermione came stomping down. Miraculously, she avoided the pile of potions journals waiting to be carried upstairs and stood on the landing, glaring murderously at Severus.

“What the _fuck_ did you give him, Severus?” she asked. Her flushed face looked oddly green in the fairy lights, which, fed by her spiking emotions, had doubled in intensity and glowed violently green.

Severus didn’t recall ever having heard Hermione Granger-Weasley swear before. He looked worriedly up the stairs.

“A simple virility potion, as I’ve already said,” he stated, narrowing his gaze at her as if she was the suspicious party and not himself. “His body chemistry must be off – it should have worn off after thirty minutes.”

“You made it?” she asked sharply. “Here?”

“Of course,” he answered. “Are you questioning my brewing skills?” he challenged.

“I’m questioning your eyesight,” she returned. “Your life partner – my friend of nearly fifty years – just pushed me against the wall and tried to put his tongue down my throat.” She took a step closer as Severus’ mouth dropped open. This – well, this was highly irregular and very decidedly not good. “Severus Snape – you are to go upstairs and deal with Harry – a bit more Christmas morning cheer might wear him out for fifteen minutes or so. Then you are going to secure him in that room and come to your lab and show me each and every ingredient you used, and the exact instructions you followed.”

“I do not make mistakes,” he said, even as he mentally reviewed the potion and considered whether it had been wise to double the ginseng to boost Harry’s problematic stamina, and if ground pistachio nuts reacted differently if used roasted rather than raw.

“Go let Harry bugger you,” Hermione said, clearly tired of the conversation and wishing she was home with her family on Christmas morning. She let her gaze sweep over him slowly, head to toe. “Again.”

Severus refused to blush. He stared her down until she turned away and marched into his lab, then took his time climbing the stairs. He needed more time anyway these days, what with the staircase seemingly adding new steps at will. Their bedroom door was closed, and he pushed it open cautiously to find Harry, who’d apparently already freed himself from Hermione’s _Petrificus Totalis_ , standing naked in the middle of the room looking slightly confused.

“Severus!” His face lit up with relief.

Severus attempted to close the door but Harry was too fast. And too strong. A few minutes later, Severus found himself arse up over the end of the bed. He managed to cast a nonverbal cushioning charm as Harry tipped him over the footboard, and seconds later let out an undignified grunt as Harry’s still turgid cock pistoned inside him.

Surprisingly, Severus’ own sleepy cock began to fill again as Harry’s hands grasped his hips and he continued to pump at a furious pace.

“You are so fucking gorgeous, Severus. So fucking tight. You are going to patent this fucking potion and put my face on the label, you fucking genius.”

Obviously, thought Severus, through a surprising haze of pleasure that gave way to a near tidal wave of desire, too much boreal mushroom. He hated potions that called for one large something. How large was large, anyway?

“Your arse was made for fucking, Headmaster.” Harry thrust in and rotated his hips as he pulled out. Now _that_ was a new move – where the hell had Harry learned that one?. “Do you like when I call you that, Severus? Does the headmaster like Harry fucking Potter buggering him into next Sunday?”

Severus emitted an embarrassing sound, halfway between a mewl and a grunt, when Harry thrust in and up and the same time, withdrew slowly, then pushed in so deep that Severus swore he could feel his prick in his throat.

Merlin – he was hallucinating! Had he somehow got the salvia on his hands when he was packaging up the bulk ingredients order he’d received last week?

Harry’s pace had – impossibly – increased. He was draped over Severus’ back now, and his hand suddenly grasped Severus’ prick and tugged just as that magical mystery cock grazed over his prostate.

That they came at the same time was astounding. That Severus had come twice within an hour was even more so. He did have the presence of mind to wiggle out from under Harry once he got his breath back. He hit Harry with a body-binding spell as he slipped out of the room, dressing gown awry, and secured the door behind him.

Hermione cast a freshening charm at him as soon as he staggered into the lab.

“You smell like a brothel,” she said, returning to her study of the virility potion instructions.

“Been in one lately?” he shot back, wincing as he settled on a padded stool.

“You’ve got salvia scattered all over the work surface, Severus,” she chided with a sad shake of her head. “And you’ve clearly used far too much ginseng. As for the rest – I’ve cross-referenced –” she held up a thin tome she’d plucked off his shelf – “and if you followed this -” she held up the instructions he’d left on the work surface – “you simmered the potion two hours too long, increasing its potency tenfold.”

“Bugger,” he said. He took off his glasses and held them to the light, then wiped them off with the edge of his gown.

“You need to get prescription lenses, Severus,” Hermione said. She had settled into a resigned state, her anger having dissipated as she set about solving the puzzle of what went wrong. “And you need more light in here – and larger labels on the bottles. You’re eighty-one years old – yes – I know – not old for a wizard – but your eyes _are_ old, and you’ve been through a lot these past eighty years.”

Despite their personality differences, they always got on well together in the lab, and they worked together quietly for another twenty minutes until they had the base for a viable antidote ready.

“He’s broken out of the jinx again,” Hermione said as a crash upstairs disturbed their concentration. “I can finish – I’ll have something ready to try in half an hour. Get up there and have yourself some more Christmas cheer, Severus.”

She spoke fondly, and Severus sighed as he stood, then winced as his knees protested the movement. 

“Happy Christmas, Severus,” she said as she shooed him out of the room and he squared his shoulders and quite reluctantly marched off to war, trying to convince himself that the potion had surely worn off by now.

He never quite made it to the bedroom.

The mad flickering of the usually soft fairly lights, quick bursts of red and green and yellow, should have warned him that something was amiss, but he walked resolutely across the living room and fell unawares into the spider’s trap.

Said spider, who’d been lurking behind the coat rack near the front door, pounced on him as he lifted his foot to the first stair.

“Where have you been, love?” Harry whispered into Severus’ ear as he lifted his dressing gown and fondly caressed Severus’ bits. To Severus’ complete surprise, he felt a frisson of pleasure course through his over-used sex organs.

“You’re over-taxing that arm,” Severus warned Harry weakly as Harry deftly turned him around, positioned his hands on the wall above his head and pushed his feet outward. Damn this potion and damn Harry’s memory. They hadn’t had wall sex in at least a dozen years, but it had once been his favourite way to take Harry. He recalled exactly how he’d whisper into Harry’s ear from behind, kiss his neck, and position Harry’s hands and feet precisely as Harry had just positioned his. But now that the tables were turned and his knees were iffy, especially after two vigorous rounds this morning – which exactly doubled the number of times they’d had sex this year, and with Harry sporting an apparently never-ending erection, he wasn’t quite so keen as he’d been back in the day.

“Harry – you may want to reconsider this,” he suggested quite rationally. “Ms. Granger-Weasley has come to visit and we’re quite out in the … ahhhh.”

“Yes – right there. That will do nicely,” Harry cooed as he rubbed the head of his prick against Severus’ cleft, one hand still fondling those once-more-familiar bits. Severus groaned as Harry pressed in very, very slowly, appearing to want to savour this particular buggering. Thank Merlin Severus had worn that plug for nearly two days leading up to Christmas morning and the planned potion surprise. Harry kept up an interesting but completely unpredictable rhythm – pushing in half way, pulling out, rotating his pelvis as he thrust. He’d push in part way again, then out, then all the way in, half out – Severus could hardly keep up with it all. “No wonder you liked taking me like this so much, you complete and utter sex god – it’s _thrust_ dangerous _thrust_ and intimate _thrust thrust thrust_.

Harry gave up the idea of making it unpredictable and let go, ending with a half dozen well-aimed thrusts, then spilled his load amazingly quickly, pumping rapidly, then immediately dropped to his knees, forgetting that they hurt like hell in that position, and bit Severus’ sparse left butt check then began to tongue him greedily.

Severus, having already decided that he was most definitely _not_ too old to be buggered against the wall, especially once a year on Christmas morning, was soon babbling like a baby, begging Harry to put that dirty, dirty mouth to better use sucking his neglected prick and promising to ream him with the biggest dildo he could transfigure from a pestle and to _fuck fuck fuck just make me come again already_ , when Ron Weasley stepped out of the Floo, come to check on his wife. 

Fortunately, Ron alerted them of his presence by stumbling over a roller skate that had fallen out of an Oxfam box.

“Hey Won,” Harry grunted around a mouthful of Severus. “Be wif you in a mint.”

Ron stared, eyes riveted to the most improbable sight and incapable of movement. Severus would later thank Merlin and all his protectors that he was still mostly covered by his dressing gown. Severus grabbed Harry’s head, having the presence of mind to get it over with quickly, and rammed his prick past Harry’s tonsils until he gave an odd shudder and all the energy in his aging body drained out of him. _So that’s what a third orgasm in not much more than an hour feels like,_ he thought as he collapsed on the floor against the wall.

Dimly, he watched Harry stand and gaze at his shell-shocked best friend.

“Hey, Ron,” he said, taking a step forward, and while he seemed completely oblivious of his still-hard, bobbing prick, Ron most obviously was not.

Ron said he had a predatory look in his eye, and Severus easily forgave him for the Stupefy that followed.

ooO 5 Ooo

“Dad, you and Severus really should consider moving – you need a place without all these stairs.”

Lily looked meaningfully at Severus as he slowly made his way into the kitchen, holding his back.

“Oh – he’s fine. Just wrenched his back a bit getting out of bed this morning. He could do that anywhere – stairs or no stairs.”

“He looks like he’s been riding a hippogriff too long,” said James in a stage whisper. His wife smirked and looked sidelong at Harry.

“Hippogriffs!” exclaimed an excited voice. A child hopped up and down at James’ feet. “Did Grandpa get a hippogriff, Dad? Can we go see? Can I ride it too?”

“Me too! Me too!” called out his sister Agnes, skidding into the room and grabbing her father’s other leg. “You have to bow to it, Gordon. Don’t forget to bow!”

The children were soon distracted with the announcement that it was time for presents, and Albus scooted to the center of the sofa so that Severus could fit in beside him. Severus slowly lowered himself down and shifted to find a comfortable position, swallowing a wince.

“Do I need to talk to Dad?” Albus said to Severus, voice low. There were times Severus very much appreciated having a healer in the family. This was not one of those times.

“Whatever for?” answered Severus. He turned away. “Honoria, bring Grandpa Severus something to open.”

Honoria, Lily and Aubrey’s four-year-old, who was currently crawling on her belly beneath the tree, backed out clutching an odd-shaped package wrapped in brown butcher’s paper tied up with white string.

“How festive,” Severus proclaimed as she deposited it in his lap.

“Who’s it from?” she asked as he lifted the package. She immediately crawled into his lap for a better look.

“Oof!” Her chubby knee landed directly on his groin as she kneeled up and squeezed him around the neck.

“There you go, young lady.” Albus lifted her quickly off Severus’ lap, looking at his chalk-white face worriedly. He deposited her back on the floor. “Go find one for Grandpa Harry now.”

“But who’s it from?” she insisted. “It’s so – ord’nary.”

“It’s from me,” wheezed Severus. He peeled off the tag and read it aloud “To Severus Snape from Severus Snape.”

“I didn’t know we could give ourselves presents,” Honoria said, obviously intrigued. “What is it?” 

“It’s an antique set of scales, finely calibrated, six pair of wool socks and a novel about the carnal relationship shared by two male RAF pilots,” he answered. He pulled off the paper to expose those exact items. The men depicted on the book cover seemed to be positioned for reciprocal oral sex in the cockpit of a plane. “There – I’ve gotten exactly what I wanted. Happy Christmas to all.”

“I think what you need is a donut cushion,” Al whispered, turning the novel over to hide the suggestive cover as Honoria scampered away and joined the de-wrapping frenzy. “I’d have brought one from the clinic if I’d known. Really, Severus – I should have a chat with Dad. I know it must be difficult with you not being able to – ah - _pitch_ anymore, but Dad needs to take your age into consideration….”

Severus scoffed, but there was an amused glint in his eye. “By all means – have that talk with him. I suppose I woud appreciate a bit of a rest at my advanced age now that I can’t _pitch_ any longer.”

Across the room, small voices screamed in delight. The fairy lights all around the room glowed warm and began to twinkle. The tree spat out a few presents that had been wedged far back beneath its lower limbs and Lily caught them each in succession with the Seeker reflexes she’d inherited from her father.

“They’ve opened the crups, I take it,” Severus said with a satisfied smile.

“You wrapped _crups_?” Al craned his neck to see but the floor was a virtual blur of arms, legs and tails as crups and children chased each other through torn wrapping paper.

“Of course. How else would the children be surprised?” He lifted his feet as a white crup with black ears and brown tails waddled by with Agnes in pursuit.

“I am so glad I don’t have children,” Al said with a sigh, but his voice was drowned out by the delighted screams of his nieces and nephew.

Severus hummed and opened his novel.

ooO 6 Ooo

“I am exceedingly glad that Christmas comes only once a year,” Severus said as Harry settled beside him on the sofa.

“I just stepped in crup pee,” Harry shared, holding up a soiled sock before banishing it to the laundry room.

“I am not sorry. The crup puppies were your idea.”

“The children loved them.”

“Their parents – ”

“Their parents all agreed before we brought them home, Severus.”

“They will end up here by the summer.”

Harry grinned. “Already thought of that and it’s not going to happen. The kids would be worried we’d trip over them and break our necks.”

“Hmph.” Severus closed his eyes. “For the record, I didn’t tell them about the skates.”

“But you did tell Albus I’ve been buggering you senseless,” Harry replied.

“No. Al asked me if he should talk to you – explain that I’m a delicate old man and you’ve got to take it easy on me now that I can’t ‘pitch’ to you any longer.”

“No. He didn’t.”

“He most certainly did.” 

Harry groaned. “Damn – I agreed to meet him tomorrow after he gets back from dinner at his mum’s. He said he wanted to discuss something with me.”

“He does – your sex life.” Severus chuckled. “I’m looking forward to you telling him that until this morning, you hadn’t done any ‘pitching’ in quite some time.”

“That’s none of his business.” Harry grinned despite himself. “I’ll just let him lecture me about taking more care not to bugger you across the kitchen table.”

“Well, while you submit to a humiliating lecture from your son, I will be spending time in my lab with Ms. Granger-Weasley. She’s insisting I make some changes in return for keeping mum about the little incident this morning.”

Harry snorted. “That sounds like Hermione,” he said. He let out a deep sigh and pressed his toes into Severus’ calf. “What sort of changes, then?”

“Keep your crup-urine toes off of my leg,” growled Severus, though a pleased smile flitted across his face.

“It was the other foot,” said Harry, pressing his toe in even more firmly. “So – changes?” 

“Oh, the usual rot. Larger print on the ingredient labels. Reference books shelved within reach of the lab table. Brighter lights – she’s insisting on electric – she claims Hugo knows a Muggle who can wire the lab up affordably.”

“So – she’s decided you made an honest error with that potion, eh? Picked up the wrong ingredient? Read the label wrong because your eyes are so bad?”

“And a visit to St. Mungo’s to have my eyes examined and get proper spectacles,” Severus added with a resigned look.

“It’s worth it,” Harry answered, snuggling in even closer. “The alternative is the kids finding out you fed me a dodgy potion that made me hard enough for three good rounds and horny enough to try to feel up their Aunt Hermione.”

“Try to?” Severus rolled his eyes.

“She hits hard.” Harry touched his cheek. “And it took me forever to break her body bind spell. I’m getting soft.”

Severus chuckled. “Good.”

“Hermione warned me not to take any more virility potions from you and to consult a trained healer about my erectile dysfunction.” He groaned. “Erectile dysfunction. That’s what the Muggles call it, apparently.” He sighed and stretched out his legs, rotating his ankle until it made a satisfying pop. “So, what are we going to do about Ron? Obliviate him?”

“He’s seen worse,” Severus tried. “Hermione claims he walked in on Molly and Arthur once in what she would only describe as a ‘nontraditional’ position.”

Harry gave a choked sound that might have been a laugh, and might have been a grimace. “Did he Stupefy them too?” he asked.

“Ron will come around,” Severus stated. “At the very least, he didn’t see _my_ bits.”

“I’m actually glad he Stupefied me before I tried to snog him.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, clasped hands resting on Harry’s thigh.

“If Hugo finds out, it will get back to Al,” Severus said. “Be prepared for a complete medical workup.”

Harry groaned, then sat pensively for a moment. “Severus – I’ve been meaning to ask you something. What do you think about Madeira?”

Severus turned his head to stare at Harry. “Madeira? I’ve always wanted to visit.”

“Tomorrow, then?”

“Why wait until tomorrow?” Severus was already starting to haul himself up to his feet. “Madeira is waiting.”

He held out a hand and pulled Harry up, unbalancing himself in the process so that they both nearly fell over again. They grinned like teenagers about to get into a great deal of trouble, and headed for the stairs. Harry kicked a stray ball of wadded up wrapping paper back toward the tree, and Severus scooped up his new novel – it just wouldn’t do to visit the beach without it.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment here or at [LiveJournal](https://snape-potter.livejournal.com/3894731.html), [Insanejournal](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snape_potter/1823776.html), or [Dreamwidth](https://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/1151802.html).


End file.
